


Tongues, Always Pressed to Your Cheeks

by KlingyKlaus



Series: Little Kisses [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: A lot of spit, Crossdressing, Jealous Luther, Klaus In A Skirt, M/M, The Kliego is A Brief Mention, This is nasty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 21:45:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19036189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KlingyKlaus/pseuds/KlingyKlaus
Summary: Luther can’t stand when Klaus wears those skirts.And Klaus, well, he’s just a little bit messy.





	Tongues, Always Pressed to Your Cheeks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheseusInTheMaze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/gifts).



> This is again for my boo, Theseus. I love you bb. This got nasty. 
> 
> Also: they’re 16, which is over the age of majority. Idk. I marked it underage just in case.

Like most of his siblings, Luther found Klaus infuriating. He was loud and uncouth, didn’t listen to anyone, and he dressed like a skank.

One time, when Luther had been so flustered and hard from seeing Klaus in a particularly low cut skirt, he had said something about it.

“You dress like a whore, Klaus.”

In his aroused fugue, Luther couldn’t think far enough ahead to regret his words.

Over his shoulder, Klaus shot Luther his patented _look._  The one where he raised one perfectly arched eyebrow and his lips pursed into a disappointed pout. It’s almost as reprimanding as Grace’s mom look. _Almost._

“Do you think Allison dresses like a whore?”

Luther was taken aback by the question, not entirely certain how it pertained to the topic at hand, but indignant at its implication.

“Of course I don’t!” He practically shouted. “She’s tasteful, and… and elegant!”

Klaus hummed, turning back to the counter where he was preparing brownie batter. “Strange. Because these are her clothes.”

The straight admission of the fact that Klaus was stealing Allison’s clothes only served to fuel Luther’s indignation-quickly-turning-to-rage.

“It’s different! They’re meant for her, and your legs are longer!”

“Anything is for anyone if you aren’t a little bitch about it,” Klaus snarked. Then he smiled coyly and turned to face Luther, leaning back against the counter and spreading his stance a bit. “Have you been looking at my legs, Luther?”

Luther, finally realizing that this conversation was not going the way he wanted, attempted to get them back on topic. “It doesn’t matter. You need to stop dressing like that. You look easy, and it’s distracting.”

Klaus’ grin turned predatory and he stalked towards Luther, shoving him down into a chair when they were close enough. “You find me distracting? How cute.”

And then Klaus was licking wet and messy over Luther’s mouth. The flat of his tongue was warm and soft where it spanned Luther’s lips, leaving the skin there shiny as saliva ran down his chin.

“God, Klaus, you’re so _gross_ ,” Luther exclaimed, shoving hard at Klaus and causing him to stumble back several steps.

He wiped his arm over his mouth angrily, getting rid of the spit Klaus had left there.

“Fine.” And then Klaus was hopping up onto the kitchen counter and spreading his legs ever so slightly.

If Klaus just moved a little bit more, Luther thought as he stared at his brother’s long legs, then his underwear would be visible.

“Anyways, I’m going to finish up these brownies. Go bother Allison or something, I don’t want you in here while I’m cooking.”

It was a clear dismissal, and Luther should have listened. It’s what he usually did when Klaus was annoying him. Typically, when Klaus did something absurd and infuriating, Luther would go find another sibling to complain to. But now, all he could think about was what would happen if Diego came in after him.

He wasn’t dumb, he knew Klaus and Diego messed around sometimes. Had caught them, more than once, making at in inopportune places.

It hadn’t ever bothered Luther before. It was just a fact of the house. Training started early every morning, Geometry was hard, and Klaus made out with Diego. However, now the thought of Diego coming in and seeing Klaus, perfectly domestic in his little skirt and making brownies, made Luther’s blood boil.

Angry at the Diego in his mind, Luther stood abruptly from his chair and stalked across the room to where Klaus was mixing his batter. He took the bowl from those nimble hands, and placed it a safe distance away, before pressing into Klaus’ heat.

They were touching from hip to chest, Luther’s insistent erection a hot brand against Klaus’ naked thigh.

At sixteen, Luther’s burgeoning muscles and broad shoulders were a stark contrast to Klaus’ long, gangly limbs. Limbs that somehow seemed elegant in the way that they wrapped around Luther. Shapely legs around his waist and thin arms around his neck. Dragging him closer, dragging him down, until Klaus was breathing hot and damp against Luther’s lips.

Luther expected something witty, something _mean_ , to come from Klaus’ mouth. But instead he got a breathy, “please,” and a sloppy line licked from his chin to his nose.

In retaliation, Luther pinched Klaus’ exposed thigh. Hard enough, he hoped, that it would bruise. This earned a high pitched keening sound from Klaus, and in the face of that Luther just couldn’t refuse.

He attacked Klaus’ mouth with vigor, technique not much better than that of someone who had never been kissed. But Klaus didn’t seem to care. He moaned low in the back of his throat and rocked forward into his larger brother, mouth going slack as Luther slid his tongue inside.

Spit dripped steadily out of Klaus’ mouth as Luther explored with his tongue. Warm saliva ran down their chins, wetting Klaus’ shirt and making the space between them slippery slick and _filthy._

Taking some initiative, Klaus began sucking on Luther’s tongue, guiding one of those big hands beneath his skirt and resting it on his hip.

What Luther felt there (smooth, skin-warm lace), caused him to groan and lift Klaus from the counter so that the smaller boy had to cling even harder in order to keep himself from ending up on the floor.

He pulled back from Klaus’ mouth, breath coming in ragged pants. “Please,” he gasped, voice pained. “Please tell me these aren’t… these aren’t hers.”

Klaus giggled, pressing his forehead against Luther’s. “Nope. These are 100% mine. Diego gets them for me, with the money from that job dad let him get.”

The mention of Diego made Luther’s blood run hot all over again, jealousy settling like a pit in his stomach. It looked as if Klaus was going to start speaking again, probably something about Diego and _panties,_ so Luther pressed their mouths together again and forced his tongue back into Klaus’ mouth.

The kiss was just as wet and messy as the first, this time interspersed with little moans from Klaus.

His brother was sucking on his chin, tongue laving the spot and making it wet, when Luther put a hand down the back of his panties and began petting over his hole. Beneath his fingers, it fluttered, pulsing and seeming to invite him inside. But even Luther’s limited knowledge told him not to attempt anything without proper lubrication.

Klaus was making them both wet enough that lubrication shouldn’t have been a problem. The closer Klaus got to his orgasm, the less coordinated his mouth was. Little whimpers interrupting the kitten licks he was giving Luther’s mouth. Quiet moans ruining the seal between their lips as Luther tasted his brother, thorough and deep.

When Klaus came, he threw his head back in ecstasy, drool escaping his mouth to add to the mess on his chin.

The sight of Klaus covered in their combined spit, eyeliner running in streaks, and body quivering, caused a possessive thrill to shoot through Luther’s body. That, coupled with the feeling of Klaus’ warm release spreading between them, pushed Luther over that razor’s edge into the heart stopping oblivion of orgasmic ecstasy.

“That was…” Luther trailed off, still catching his breath.

“Absolutely out of this world,” Klaus finished for him.

Post-orgasm haze fading quickly, Luther became hyper aware of the mess between them and his clothes sticking to him from spit and semen.

As gingerly as he could, he pulled his hand from the back of Klaus’ panties and set him down on the floor.

“I’m going to go… go clean up. You should too.” And then he was gone, not sparing a backwards glance.

He was gone so quickly, he didn’t hear Klaus’ pitiful little sigh of rejection, or see the tears the Séance hastily wiped away.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for attending this spit fest. Comments and kudos make me really happy.


End file.
